


right as rain

by troiing



Series: S for Sanctuary [2]
Category: Sanctuary (TV), V for Vendetta - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1297750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troiing/pseuds/troiing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now, he thinks, if she were smiling at all times, the world would be much less grave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	right as rain

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a panfandom rp-verse where these two have been brought together (in a different world entirely) at the end of V for Vendetta and during season 3 of Sanctuary (V's relationship with Helen becoming sort of Big Guy-esque in some ways), but I love this little scene, so I thought I'd post it here.

He brings her a cup of tea, placing it lightly down on the desk in front of her, and for a long few moments, all she can do is keep her head down, angled toward the book she’s reading, but with her brows raised and her eyes on the cup. In a fluttering flurry of emotions, she goes from bemused, to sad, to amused, and when she finally lifts her head, it’s with a broad smile and a twinkling eye.

They’re like that for a while—half a breath or longer doesn’t matter. He’s taken with the smile, and his own mouth curves unwittingly behind the mask. The mixed emotions are not lost on him—but neither is the knowledge that he has somehow brought her great joy.

His purpose, birthed in the selfless outstretching of her hand and her willing and human attentions, has never been to make her smile; now, he thinks, if she were smiling at all times, the world would be much less grave.

“A little honey,” he says at length, “and a spritz of lemon.”

Her smile fades, but the twinkle remains. “You’re attentive.”

“Only as much so as the situation requires,” he assures, stepping back to sweep a bow.

One hundred and fifty years are abbreviated in her laugh. A singular act of friendship is extended in the curve of her hand. She reaches out to touch the rim of the dainty little cup, as if in wonder herself at the act of kindness. And then, with her lips drawn into a different kind of smile—bittersweet, he thinks, but no less welcome—she murmurs: “Thank you, V.”

“You are quite welcome. Tell me—is there anything else you require?”

“Oh no,” she murmurs quietly, canting her head at him, lowering her gaze from the mask. “This is quite perfect.”


End file.
